


The River

by obfuscatedheart



Category: Hannibal Extended Universe (Fandom), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Rimming, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 07:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19420870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obfuscatedheart/pseuds/obfuscatedheart
Summary: Once again the knights tease him for using soap. It doesn't bother him, apart from Tristan's laughter. Tristan initiates a conversation that he doesn't expect when goes to clean himself.





	The River

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the [Rare Meat](https://twitter.com/RareMeat_) Tristahad week.  
> Un-beated so all mistakes are my own.

Galahad dismounts his horse, his face is flushed with embarrassment. Behind him Tristan and Bors are laughing, he knows that it is at his expense. 

“Our young maid is in a huff.” Bors roars in laughter. If he wasn’t one of his fellow knights, he would have punched him already. Tristan chuckles once and then falls silent again. Galahad glares at him. 

That is the thing he hates most, that Tristan seems to hate him so much more than anyone else. The mostly silent man seemed to always treat him with disdain, so when he does join in on the jokes it hurts so much more.

Gawain approaches him, “ignore them. They should really be the one to buy soap, they need it more than you.”

Galahad sighs and takes his horse over to the water trough. Tying her to the post he unsaddles her, rubbing her down with a cloth. She seems to enjoy the attention, when he looks up he realises that Tristan is next to him. Glaring at him he finishes his task before going to the river.  The others are gathered around the fire, laughing and drinking. As much as he wants to hate them he can’t because they are his brothers, he can’t truly remember his life before them. When he reaches the river he undoes his belt and throws it down next to the tree. 

Stripping out of his clothes he leaves them in a pile. Galahad is so angry he barely notices the chill of the water when he steps in. Diving into the cool clear water he pushes his hair out of his face when he resurfaces.

Looking out at the riverbank considering getting the soap, he is surprised to see Tristan next to the pile, who seems to be taking off his own clothes. Dipping down again so that barely his eyes are above the water line. He flushes, Tristan is an attractive man even if he is a pain in Galahad’s arse. In the deepest parts of himself he knows that his fantasies involve the tracker.

Tristan walks into the river and he is holding something in his hand. Galahad dips under the water again, intent on avoiding Tristan. Waiting until his breath runs out before he breaks the surface. Tristan is stood in front of him. 

Galahad barely manages to suppress the jump at the sudden appearance, he should have known that it was futile trying to avoid Tristan.

“What do you want?”

“I came to apologise.”

“Why would you be apologising? Bors is the one who started it. Besides you hate me so why would you care about my feelings?”

Tristan doesn’t say anything and Galahad turns away from him with a sigh. He swims away from the man, at least until there is a hand on his ankle pulling him back. He kicks Tristan in the chest, his ankle is let go briefly before hands grab at it again. He is pulled backwards and once he is able to stand Tristan holds on to him. 

“What do you want?” Galahad spits at him.

“I do care.” Tristan grinds out.

Galahad laughs mirthlessly. “When have you ever cared?”

“I have always cared.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

Tristan lets him go, “because I didn’t want you to know.”

“Know what?” Galahad rubs at his temple, a headache is brewing and all he really wants to do is clean up.

Tristan mumbles something and Galahad looks at him questioningly.

“Care to share?”

Tristan is looking at him with characteristic intensity, although Galahad is unable to discern the emotion in his eyes.

“For gods’ sake Tristan I can’t do this.” He turns away from Tristan and heads back to the bank, he can feel the sting of tears in his eyes. Galahad hates that he feels like this because of Tristan, like he can’t do anything right.

When he reaches his clothes he looks through them but he can’t find the soap that he had bought. Throwing down the clothes again he huffs. A shout from Tristan has him turning back around, he is holding up the soap. Galahad is pissed. 

He stalks towards Tristan, ready to punch the man. When he reaches him, Tristan is smiling. Galahad punches him in the chest. Tristan laughs and it enrages him further. He punches him again.  Tristan grabs his wrist and holds it still. Galahad is glaring at him, and Tristan is looking at him with a strange expression. He pulls him close and gently kisses him. It shocks Galahad so much that he freezes.

Tristan stops and pulls back, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No. It’s just that I never knew” Galahad says somewhat lamely.

There is hope in Tristan’s eyes, and Galahad gently places a hand on his cheek. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I tried to ignore it, because I thought that you wouldn’t want someone like me.”

“Why?”

“Because look at me. I’m coarse and you have always preferred finer things. Like this stupid soap. Which smells incredible.”

Galahad laughs, “that soap is not that special.”

Tristan cracks a rare smile, “do you always use soap?”

“Some of use prefer properly washing off grime.” 

Tristan looks at the bar in his hand. “I think I want to try this.”

Galahad smiles and kisses him gently. “Let me.”

Tristan looks at him with the same fondness and gives him the bar. Galahad considers it for a moment, “can you dunk your head for me?”

He nods and dunks his head under the water and resurfaces, water dripping from his braids. Galahad gently takes one of them and undoes it. Tristan is watching him carefully. “Don’t worry, I will redo them in a bit.”

Tristan smiles again, Galahad is sure that this is the most he has seen Tristan smile in a long time. He undoes every single one of them with care, brushing through the hair after each one is loose with his fingers. He is surprised how soft the hair is. He carefully rubs the bar between his fingers until he has a lather. 

Massaging it into Tristan’s hair, it’s soothing doing this. He scrapes his nails over the scalp, and Tristan moans. The sounds is incredibly arousing and Galahad flushes again. Tristan kisses him hungrily. Galahad almost drops the soap in his haste to pull Tristan closer. 

He can feel that Tristan is hard against him, and his cock fills. They break apart, and Galahad says, “rinse out your hair.”

Tristan steps back out of reach and Galahad finds himself reaching for him. “I really don’t feel like it.” 

“Please just rinse your hair, I don’t want soap dripping into your eyes.”

Tristan lets himself fall backwards into the water, and Galahad steps forward to try and stop him forward. He jumps back up out of the water and splashes Galahad who splashes him back.

Tristan takes his arms and pulls him close and kisses him again. A hand tangles in his hair and pulls, Galahad pulls away and moans. Tristan presses a kiss to his throat, teeth grazing his pulse point.

He is slowly pushed towards the bank, neither truly breaking apart from each other. Galahad trips when they reach the bank, Tristan falls on top of him with a grunt. They both laugh and then Tristan is kissing him again. Galahad rolls them until he is lying on top of Tristan. He grinds his cock against Tristan’s. The moan Tristan lets out his so deep and he can feel it at every point where they are connected, Galahad pecks at Tristan’s lips again.

“We could have been doing this a long time again, if you had said something.”

“You could have said something too.” Tristan sounds as breathless as Galahad feels.

“And embarrass myself? I was sure that you hated me more than any other person alive.”

Tristan thrusts up, “you think I could hate you?”

Galahad laughs before kissing Tristan again. “I think it’s quite obvious that you don’t hate me.”

“Let me show you exactly what I feel about you.” It sounds like a threat and then Galahad finds himself on his back again.

The bulkier frame of Tristan is pressing him onto the ground, it’s pleasant in a way he doesn’t expect. Tristan’s cock is heat against him, and he bucks up against him. Pleasure is pooling slowly in his belly, he feels drunk with it.  Tristan takes a hand and winds it through Galahad’s hair, scraping his nails against his scalp. A moan is pulled out of him, he doesn’t know what he wants to happen next, but he knows he is desperate for something to happen. 

Lips graze his throat, and then kiss further down to his chest. Tristan’s other hand pinches his left nipple and he gasps. He takes a long breath in and exhales, his breath catching when Tristan rolls the nipple.

The hand leaves his hair and joins the other in exploring his chest, Galahad had never known that his chest would be this sensitive. Galahad wishes there was something he could do to bring Tristan even a fraction of what he is feeling. 

“You just stay there and enjoy yourself.” It’s then that Galahad realises that he has spoken aloud. He feels lost to a haze of pleasure. Every part of him that Tristan is touching feels like it is burning. 

A hand circles his cock and pulls, it’s a smooth slide because he is leaking steadily, he is almost embarrassed by the mess he is making of himself, but the look on Tristan’s face leads him to believe that Tristan is glad for it. 

Tristan twists his wrist and Galahad bucks upwards, the fist around him is tight and warm. “I didn't know it could be like this.” Galahad says breathlessly.

“Like what?” Tristan says, pausing in his ministrations.

“Like I’m floating and you’re the only one holding me tethered to earth.”

Tristan laughs again, “I can be that. If you’ll have me?”

“Most certainly. The question is, how do you want me?”

“Every which way to Sunday and back, if that is what you want?”

Galahad nods furiously, desperation makes him feel like a teenager again. One hand is pulling Tristan closer to him, desperate for everything and anything that Tristan can do to him. He wants the hands on him always, they feel like a brand against him.

Tristan puts his mouth over Galahad’s cock who gasps he can feel the muscles of his stomach clench and unclench. Wet heat enveloping him has him close to coming within moments, Tristan seems to notice and pulls off. 

“That close?”

“I have never felt like this, it’s like only you know how to play me.”

Tristan smiles, “likewise.”

He stands in a rush, Galahad makes a face wishing that Tristan was closer again, missing the heat from him already. He twists his head to watch Tristan walk, his cock swaying with each movement. Galahad’s throat feels dry suddenly, he swallows reflexively. Tristan bends over and picks up something from the pile of clothes. The sight of his arse has Galahad hungry.

He isn’t blind of course, he knows Tristan is attractive but seeing him like this is intoxicating. There has never been someone that Galahad has found as attractive as he does Tristan. 

Tristan returns, holding something in his hand, something Galahad can’t quite make out, he looks down him to his cock. It bobs as he walks, Galahad can see how the head glistens in the light, from him leaking. When Tristan approaches him, he can see the small vial in his hand. Tristan lies back down on top of Galahad and he enjoys the weight on top of him. Tristan kisses him hungrily. Carefully unstopping the vial, he pours a small amount of oil onto his hands. 

Galahad swallows around the lump in his throat. He expects a finger at his arse but what he doesn’t expect is the slippery hand around his cock. He bucks up into the loose fist, moaning loudly. Tristan moves backwards and guides Galahad’s cock to his entrance. He sinks down onto Galahad, inch by inch. Tristan is like a hot vice around his cock. He scrabbles with his hands against the floor until he reaches up and winds a hand in Tristan’s chest hair.

Tristan sinks down until his arse hits Galahad’s hips, groaning loudly. He would almost be ashamed of the noises they are making, if he wasn’t so caught up in the way Tristan feels around him. Tristan pauses for long moments, he takes one of Galahad’s hands and kisses each knuckle, before he pulls upwards until only the tip of Galahad remains inside of him. He lets himself fall back down quickly, they moan in unison.

He sits up to capture Tristan’s lips again, who sets a punishing rhythm as he rides Galahad. Galahad can only hang on to the man above him as the man uses him for his pleasure, one hand between them on his cock, the other pulling at Galahad’s hair. 

Galahad’s right hand joins Tristan’s and pulls frantically at his cock, the other clawing at his back to hold him close. The pleasure is cresting, he feels like his about to fall off a precipice with Tristan. “Going to come.” Tristan breathes against his lips. Galahad nods frantically.

Tristan comes with Galahad’s name on his lips. He squeezes Galahad’s cock as he comes, it wrenches an orgasm out of him. Tristan groans his hips rocking slightly, aftershocks running through both of them. Tristan lifts up until Galahad’s cock slips out of him, a trickle of come following out dripping onto his leg, his cock twitches slightly, too spent to truly do anything. He falls backwards on to the ground with Tristan on top of him. They kiss lazily, cooling slightly in the summer breeze.

He rolls off of Galahad, who twists until he is lying on Tristan’s chest, a hand drawing lazy circles in the come on Tristan’s belly, who laughs heartily. “I regret not saying something sooner.” Tristan says after a while.

Galahad kisses him again, “you could have. But I find myself quite happy with the results.”

Tristan smiles, “yes I am quite happy right now.”

Galahad lifts up his head to look at Tristan who is beaming down at him, the fondness back in his eyes. He kisses Tristan lazily, before settling back down with his ear to Tristan’s chest, listening to Tristan’s heartbeat.

“What do you think will happen now?”

Tristan is silent for long moments, “it’s not long now until we regain our freedom. Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. I used to think that I will return home, but I was so young when they took me, that I can’t really remember home. Where will you go?”

“As terrible as this godforsaken island is, something about it feels like home now. I am sure I will find somewhere to settle down.”

“Find a nice girl and have children?”

“Not if you stay.” Tristan breathes, and Galahad feels the words more than he hears them.

He looks up at him again, “you want me to stay?”

“Until the very end, if that’s what you want.”

Joy spreads through Galahad who clambers on top of Tristan to kiss him again. He’s too tired to do anything but he enjoys the feeling of them both; naked and together.

“I take that as a yes?”

“I think you should.” Galahad says with laughter kissing him again. 

“Well I think we’ll find somewhere nice, away from everyone.”

“I’d like that. Although we will have to find somewhere without too many stairs for you old man.”

“Old man? I’ll show you what an old man can do.” Tristan rolls them until he is above Galahad, he can feel that Tristan is hard again.

Galahad laughs, “show me exactly what an old man can do.”

Tristan reaches for the vial where it is lying next to them, he applies some to his fingers. Galahad is thickening slightly. Tristan crawls down him and takes Galahad’s cock into his mouth again, moaning around the shaft as Galahad gets hard again. Tristan licks over the head, before sinking down. Galahad can feel his cock hit the back of his throat and he bucks up.

He is sensitive and it verges on painful, but he doesn’t want Tristan to stop. Tristan takes one of Galahad’s hands and takes it to his hair, urging him to hold on. He winds his fingers through the now dry strands, Tristan moans enthusiastically. Tristan kisses down the side of his cock before going lower. A tongue brushes over his hole and he shudders. For a moment he is unsure of how to proceed. 

Tristan fucks him lazily with his tongue, alternating between broad strokes and quick jabs of his tongue. Galahad can tell he is positively dripping with saliva. Tristan sits back and pushes a slick finger inside him. The fullness is strange but pleasant, and he is surprised at how much he is leaking already. Tristan seems intent on making it last because he seems entirely unhurried in his ministrations.

Then Tristan pushes into him, Galahad groans. He feels hot and full like Tristan has wormed himself into him. All he can feel is Tristan. He is given a few moments to adjust before he pulls back and thrusts forwards. Galahad is holding onto him, he can’t let go of the man, and there are tears in his eyes. Tristan brushes them away before kissing him. “I know.” Tristan whispers against his lips.

The thrusts are slow and deep and he can feel every long stroke inside him. Tristan wraps a hand around his cock between them, pulling at his cock in time with his thrusts. Galahad is chanting Tristan’s name, almost delirious with pleasure. Tristan is kissing his neck, breathing him in. The orgasm that is wrenched out of him is almost painful in its intensity, and Tristan thrusts twice more before spilling deeply inside him with a groan. 

Tristan slips out of him with a wince, come trickles out of him. They are both covered in sweat and come and Galahad considers going back into the river to clean up, but he is bone tired. Tristan rolls off him with a laugh, holding on to Galahad’s hand.

“We should clean up, but I find myself too exhausted.”

Galahad laughs, “likewise.”

Tristan pulls him close again, holding him close. “You smell good.”

“Like sweat I’m sure.”

“Yes but also well-fucked. It suits you.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Hush now, an old man is trying to sleep.”

Galahad laughs again. “I might join you in that.”

He falls asleep with the sound of Tristan’s heart in his ears cradled by the man he loves. 


End file.
